Northern Lights
by sentinel10
Summary: Imprinting was supposed to make his life easy. But nothing, worth anything, is ever easy. Drabble fic. AU, OOC
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Imprinting was supposed to make his life easy. But nothing, worth anything, is ever easy. Drabble fic. AU, OOC

Rating: M - Strong Language.

Disclaimer: SM owns Twilight.

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Northern Lights

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_/ I have a face where half is mine and half is not, it is hard to see a difference when you stand in front of me under the light as both my eyes shine equally. But the day you step into the darkness I hold inside me you will see my face the way it is and it will end up changing your whole world related to me forever. /_

_Akshay Vasu_

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"Get the hell in the house, boy," his grandfather growls, striking him with his cane.

"Shit, gramps. What the hell!" he shrieks, dodging the old man's lethal aim.

"Sit down and shut up." Old Quil instructs with a glare.

Quil already knows what his grandfather is going to say.

He is disgusting, sick even. How could he contemplate the possibility of – of having a soul mate? One so damn young. He wants to throw up, just like he had done as soon as he'd run far enough away from **her**, collapsing on the forest floor.

He just couldn't –

"You and I need to have a chat. Set some _rules_."

Quil grimaces under the stare he is being given.

"You _will_ stay away. You _will_ give the parents some time. I will speak to them, but I fear that they will not appreciate this – this gift."

_Gift_? It was a fucking curse. He could already feel himself forgetting the feel of Hanna Crow's body as she allowed him to get to second base at the movies last weekend.

Fuck, Jake and Embry were going to give him shit for the rest of his life.

"Boy!" Old Quil growls, striking him in the shoulder with his cane.

"Gramps! Quit it!"

"I'll quit _you_, boy. You listen and you listen _good_ –"

Quil bares his teeth as the cane hits him again.

"I spoke to Sam. He confirmed what happened and that your thoughts are… pure."

His fists ball by his sides. "Oh course they're pure. She's – she's two fucking years old."

_You sick fuck,_ he wants to tag on, but doesn't. He has enough respect to not start world war three with the almost geriatric that has been a part of his life for the last sixteen years.

"Don't sass me, boy," Old Quil stomps his foot, moving to swing his cane again.

This time Quil snaps. He isn't an Alpha, but he still has a temper. For his Grandfather to need Sam to confirm that his grandson wasn't some kind of, kiddy-fiddler, makes him angry as fuck.

The wolf boy catches the cane before he can be struck again. His nostrils flare as he attempts to control the beast clawing under his skin. He can feel it tearing, feel himself shaking. He isn't some disgusting rock spider, he had no attraction to children, and how dare anyone even –

"Hit me again, old man. I _dare_ you."

The words come out in a snarl, his lips pulling back to his eye teeth.

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	2. Chapter 2

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"Quil?" a little girl with piggy tails asks, stopping to look up at him through her black eyelashes.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

Crouching down he waits for her to speak.

"Where do butterflies come from?"

Her hair bounces as she continues on, strolling happily through the forest, her fingertips running along the tops of each shrub she could reach.

He rubs a hand over his face, unsure of how to answer. He thinks back to what his grandfather had told him as a boy. He considers the story to be slightly inappropriate for a child but he has never wanted to shelter the little girl, but rather provide a strong, reasonable base for her beliefs and her life.

"My grandfather once told me that butterflies contain the souls of children who have come back from death. They are a symbol of change, joy and colour. They are considered a miracle of transformation and resurrection."

The little girl contemplates his answer before shaking her head.

Clearly he had not answered her question properly.

"But _where _do they come from?"

His lengthy strides don't take long for him to catch up to her, ruffling her hair as her purple sneakers trample flowers underfoot. "I'll tell you one day when you're a bit older, huh? Until then, let's just enjoy them."

She nods firmly, taking off in front of him in a squeal of delight, on a mission to find the very elusive insect.

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	3. Chapter 3

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"You can't see her any more in public, Quil. People are starting to ask questions; questions I can't possibly answer without revealing your secret."

Her father's voice is deep, demanding. It's not that he doesn't like him, it's just that others don't... understand.

"I'm not doing anything wrong," he murmurs in response, eyes flushed with hurt, his chest pounding with anxiety. "I didn't ask for this."

The man takes a deep breath, laying a hand on his shoulder with a sigh.

"I know. You can still come by, son. But - your adventures - they can't leave this house. Understood?"

He sighs at the elder in front of him, eyes downcast. "Of course, sir."

Walking back towards First Beach, he runs into Jake.

"Hey, man," Quil half salutes, his lips pulling into a grimace.

Jake shoots him a wave and jogs over, football dangling between his fingers. "Sup, man. What's happening?"

Quil sighs. He hates getting into it with Jacob. Jacob just, he didn't understand. He was free. He hadn't imprinted. He didn't know how it felt.

"Not much, cuz." He shrugs, digging his hands further into his pockets.

Jacob frowns in his direction, just as a cat call rings out behind them. "Jake! Hurry up! Throw the ball!"

Quil's cousin scratches his neck awkwardly. "You wanna join?" Jake asks, thumbing towards the crowd behind them.

Quil peeks to see a couple of the girls from the Rez, all crowded around on beach towels, even if they were in jeans because of the weather. Embry is also there, sending him a quick wave before scooping up one of the squealing brunettes and tossing her over his shoulder like a caveman.

"Nah, man. I'm just gonna go home, ya know. Catch up on some sleep."

"Alright, cuz," Jake nods with a quick fist bump.

"See you for patrol later," Quil mumbles as he turns on his heel.

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	4. Chapter 4

a/n - It's going to get a bit dizzy. We will be time-hoping in the next few chapters. Nobody likes a child-imprint.

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Taking another swig, he finishes the bottle.

Shaking it to make sure its empty, he raises it to his eyes, before pulling back and hurling the bottle towards the rocks. It slams against the grey rock, little shards of glass in every which way like tiny fireworks.

He grimaces as he sways, reaching down to grasp the next bottle.

He didn't give a shit any more.

He fucking _hates_ weddings.

His chest burns as he sucks down another gulp, spilling some of the dark liquid over his white shirt as he pulls it away. The stars are bright tonight, and he gives them a glare they are worthy of. He hates those stupid little sparkling balls of fire. How dare they be beautiful, how dare they, when his life was all but falling apart.

He looks down at the crisp white shirt he's wearing, stained with liquor. He pulls apart the top buttons, as well as shrugging off the black jacket. It falls behind his back to the cliff tops. His dark curls fly across his forehead, the wind from the swirling ocean below pushing him away from the edge, sprays of salt water falling over him as if he's standing in the middle of a down pour.

He walks closer, dropping the bottle as he goes. The wind in his face, rippling its way through his shirt, it feels amazing. So fucking amazing. He bets the water is just as refreshing. So refreshing he just wants it to engulf him in its darkness, wants it to pull him down into her depths, trapping him there.

"Quil?"

The voice sobers his thoughts immediately. He turns shakily on his heel, the liquor still strumming in his veins.

He wants to cry at the sight of her. She's so beautiful. He's so proud of her. Look at her, she's the smartest, kindest person he's ever known.

She fidgets with the braids over her shoulders, her eyes looking strangely at him. She's wearing a frown, her lip pulled between her teeth.

"Sweetie, you should go back inside." He urges, blinking to stop the double image of her.

"Emily said I should find you." She tells him and fuck if he doesn't feel guilty.

He'd been ignoring her all night. Trying to stay away. Had been for years.

Her parents had been loud and clear.

He was to stay away now, let her live her life. They were sorry, but her happiness came first. They were right of course. Her happiness meant everything to him. Even if he wasn't in her life. As long as she were safe and happy. Nothing mattered.

"She said you were upset. You can talk to me, Quil. We used to be friends."

He staggers back as she steps forward.

She's _nine_ now.

Nine and so smart. So bright. He knows she's going to reach the stars with that brain of hers. She's going to leave the Reservation, she'll leave and never come back. She deserved better. So much better. He was nothing.

"I'm fine, I promise. Go back inside."

She glances over at the shards of glass littered around him, her lip pulling tighter in concern. "But-"

His head swirls, his desperation clawing under the surface.

"For fuck sake, would you just listen for _once _in your life? _Go. Back. Inside!_"

Her eyes blink fast, tears gathering in her vision. He can hear her hummingbird heart, flapping a tornado in her chest, her tiny fists balling at her sides.

"_No_." Her voice is even and commanding.

He growls in frustration. The stench of liquor pours off him as he stomps towards her, snatching her arm up. "Get inside."

"Shut up, Quil. You don't own me."

He growls, revealing his teeth.

To his surprise, she mimics him, pushing against his chest.

"I hate you," she hisses, pushing him again, angry tears falling down her cheeks.

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	5. Chapter 5

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He stops in the street when he sees her.

She's smiling, _fucking smiling_.

His heart lifts so high he can barely contain his ragged breath.

Embry raises a brow, bumping his shoulder to move, but he can't. His feet are stuck. Stuck in deep cement, just like his heart.

Even the softness of Hanna Crow's hand pulling his doesn't get him to move.

He's frozen, terrified and absolutely fucked.

She's nineteen now. _Nineteen_. He can barely believe it.

Her hair whips around her face, dancing as if it were suspended in the air. Her cheeks are cold from the early November winds, her mouth stained with a deep red lipstick. Her fringe drapes across her eyes as she giggles with the dying gusts. Her scarf is red, wrapped around her neck, contrasting against dark hair and a denim jacket he recognises from when _he_ was in high school. It looks smaller than he remembers, but it's definitely his. He can guarantee it. She's wearing dark jeans and tan boots, totally uncoordinated in colour, yet somehow everything looks so right.

Hanna clears her throat beside him, but he can't move, not yet, because she's turning, turning to look his way. Her fingers tighten on the styrofoam cup in her hand, as she squints her eyes. She smiles softly, giving him a small wave.

She remembers him.

He nods back, even with Embry chuckling beside him. From across the way he can see her tells. She continues talking with a petite girl with dark skin, but her eyes drift. She's trying to hide it, hide the blush, and hide the glances his way.

It's been ten years, ten long hard years, living only on second hand information from her parents, from anyone who had contact with her while she's been in North Dakota with her Aunt. But he's managed to live without her. Managed to live without seeing her, move on slowly, move so slowly sometimes he feels like he's still stuck in the cement of the path he now stands.

With a kiss on the cheek, she farewells the girl, and glances back. She smiles again, and makes her way over.

His throat is dry, so fucking dry.

"Hey," she calls, jogging across the road, apologising to cars as she goes. "Quil, Embry."

Jesus, he should be talking now. Replying to her. Anything but staring.

"Hey, kid." Embry grins, wrapping her up in a hug. She chuckles, poking his side as he pulls on the wavy pony tails which trails down her back. "Long time no see. How was Dakota Country?"

She laughs, switching her cup from side to side. She had been shipped away by her parents for schooling, but Quil knew it was to get her off the Rez.

And away from him.

"It was different," she replies, tucking her fringe away from her eyes, pressing her tongue out to drag across her bottom lip. "How've you been? You guys look - good. Both of you. Like you haven't aged a day."

She sneaks a glance at him, but soon her eyes crinkle in confusion from his silence.

Embry chuckles, igniting a growl from Quil.

"I'm Hanna," the woman beside him announces as her body flushes closer. A tingle of heat crawls up his spine. He's use to heat, but not this kind. Not the kind that pulls in his lower stomach, the kind that makes it clench.

"Hanna. Of course. I remember you. You're friends with my cousin Emily right? You were at her wedding. I mean - I was just a kid, but I'm good with faces."

Quil stutters as he watches a genuine smile dance on her mouth. _Fuck_. He could feel his heart hammer in his chest. He wants nothing more than to kiss her full mouth, bruise it. A dark part of him wants to bend her over and make her beg, just so she knows how it feels. How it feels to want something so much, but never obtain it. He cringes at the thought, wants to slap his own face.

Hanna laughs but all Quil can hear is the scratching tone. It's fake. As fake he feels building a relationship with someone he doesn't love. Someone that's not **her**. "That's me. You look so grown up. How old are you now? Twelve?"

Hanna knows damn well she isn't.

"Sometimes I still feel twelve. Especially coming home," she replies in amusement, casting another gaze at Quil.

Her mouth parts, as if to say something, but she closes it softly, just as fast.

Her eyes are begging him, to say something. _Anything_.

"I better go. My mother is waiting. I'll see you around. It was good to see you all again."

She waves again, throwing her cup in a nearby bin, before digging her hands inside the denim jacket that used to be his.

Hanna punches him in the chest before storming off, muttering something that sounds like 'pig'.

"Real smooth," Embry laughs, rolling his eyes.

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	6. Chapter 6

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Jacob orders them into the small red brick house, inherited after Billy's passing.

Even though it's been years, most of them look as if they aren't a day over twenty-five.

For almost _two __**decades**_ they've been a pack.

_Jacob, Embry, Quil, Seth, Brady and Colin._

They've been _brothers_.

Been _protectors_.

So it's a huge fucking surprise when others start phasing.

_Lots of them._

First it's the Neha boys. Then the Hawks. Then Jacob's nephews along with Sam Uley's first born son.

_Then_ -

"Get the fuck off me you asshole. Touch me again, I dare you," she hisses as she stomps through the door, slapping away Brady's hands.

Her eyes are dark, her long hair tangled and messily twisted over her shoulder. The shirt she wears is huge over her frame, a whole shoulder peeking out from the collar. She crosses her arms against her chest, causing the shirt to ride up her flawless thighs.

She's scowling at all of them, especially Jacob who stands, flaring his nostrils.

He glances to Quil, then back to the female.

"What the fuck is going on!" She growls, her hands shaking as they remain tucked into her chest in defiance. "One of you assholes better start talking, like right _now_!"

Quil can't speak. He can't.

"Brady?" Jacob barks, demanding to know what is going on.

Brady gives the female a wide girth before sitting heavily on the couch. "Little _miss_ here-"

"I have a name, _dipshit_."

"Damn, I'm getting there," Brady mutters as he shakes the rain from his brown hair. "_LEAH_ here, was just about to rip Quil's girls face off."

As if saying his name has summoned him from the shadows, she darts her eyes around the room, finding him there, propped up against the kitchen door frame. Eyes darker than they've ever been. She glares in his direction in challenge.

"One of you mother fuckers," she pointedly looks at him, causing him to cringe "Better tell me why the hell I just sprouted a fucking tail!"

Jacob ignores her demands, instead zeroing in on Brady. "Did she do any damage?"

"Not to Hanna's face. Maybe her ego though," Brady grins in amusement.

"Hanna Crow can kiss my fat ass. Her and her smart mouth." She grounds out, her lips pulled into a grimace.

She stares him down, stares right through him. He wants to go to her, comfort her. But he still can't move. She's pinning him with that gaze. That gaze that oozes anger, frustration, and for some reason satisfaction.

"Sit down, Leah," Jacob pinches the bridge of his nose. "And can we please ease up on the cussing?" He pleads, knowing there are at least twelve newly transformed wolves in the house, bordering on barely reaching puberty.

Leah flips Jacob the bird while his eyes are closed and moves toward the couch.

She pushes Brady down to the rug and takes a seat on the tattered furniture.

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a/n - Did ya'll guess it was going to be Leah?


	7. Chapter 7

a/n - Hoping any confusion is cleared up in this chapter.

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"So this is what you've been hiding? For eighteen years?" she says as if it's just another day.

She's perched on the railings of the porch, dangling her legs from side to side. Her denim shorts are barely there, coupled with a large gym singlet from which a black bra peeks. Her hair is shorter now, but he kind of likes it because it shows off the perfect symmetry of her face. Her dark brows shaped over dark eyes, her straight nose, and the fullness of her lips.

She senses him looking at her hair causing her to tug the short length awkwardly. "It's weird. The short hair. Fun fact - Jake can actually cut hair." She chuckles a little, before glancing back to his eyes again. "How's Hanna?"

The way she says it tells him she really doesn't care. He had later come to find that Leah had made Hanna piss herself after Hanna had accused her of being a whore, trying to muscle in on the 'good, **taken**, rez boys'. And that was even before she blew her human skin and transformed into a wolf.

"Fine, I suppose. She won't answer my calls," he responds, with a shrug. "It suits you. The hair."

She smirks, just barely.

"What are you doing here?" he asks softly, glancing around to see if she's come with her older brother Seth.

Leah had been an 'accident' or 'mid-life crisis episode' as her parents had to put. Their son Seth was already in high school when they found out they were pregnant again. It had been a big adjustment for the family. One that had sealed Quil's fate.

He supposes that the real reason Seth Clearwater has always hated him, was the woman standing in front of him.

She rolls her eyes. "Since I'm 'forbidden' to leave the Rez until I get 'control' of myself, I'm trying to entertain myself." She tells him, complete with air quotes.

He can't help but let out a quiet laugh.

There was a reason Jacob had put that command on her. She was like fire. She blazed through training sessions, easily knocking down her opponents, but not only that she was naturally dominant. She oozed authority and let all of the lower ranked wolves know it.

She couldn't help it, she had explained to Jacob, it just _happened_.

Quil knew why she was blazing up the ladder. Technically, she didn't need a ladder. She already had a pedestal.

"And you came _here_?"

She bites her lip before she pushes off the rail. With his grandfather long gone, it's only him in the old house, allowing some of the pack to come and go if they needed to. He lived a fairly simple life. A quiet life.

As she steps forward her scent blooms under his nose like a tease. He inhales sharply, watches as she circles around him like he's nothing more than prey.

"You're fourth in the pack." She mutters softly, her fingertips brushing his back before pulling away.

"Right?" he swallows.

"So... If **I** want to be fourth..."

He cuts her off. "I'm not going to fight you, Leah."

"You're no fun." She pouts, stopping in front of him and crossing her arms across her chest.

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	8. Chapter 8

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The nightclub is dark and dank, but the swirling lights and deep bass of the beat line makes it irresistible.

They all want to unwind, and given they've been run into the ground over the past months with more and more vampires in the area, they figure they deserve it.

The Reservation is being patrolled by the younger generation of wolves, alternating turns until the more senior pack members returned. Seth had agreed to run with the boys in exchange for the following weekend off to travel to Seattle to see his girlfriend who was juggling finishing her Masters in teaching over the next six weeks while he continued to care for their two year old son with the help of Sue Clearwater.

"How you doing, cuz?" Jake asks as they stand around the bar table.

Embry has run off to the bar and Brady is already scoping for his newest unsuspecting victim.

"As good as can be, considering," Quil replies.

He's made himself clear. Leah could do what she liked. He wasn't going to stop her. She was free as far he was concerned.

The problem with Leah, give her an inch, and instead of a mile, she fucking circled the whole world twice over.

But he had no say. He would...

"Oh shit," Jake sighs as he rubs his forehead, eyes trained on the door to the club.

Quil's eyes wander over, taking in the woman walking into the club as if she owned all their asses. He wants to pummel the bouncers at the doors of the club, not only did they let a technical minor inside, they were both checking out her ass as she passed them. Heat licked at the collar of his shirt.

"Drinks, drinks, drinks," Embry chuckles, pushing beers on to the table, having just come from the bar. "What are you guys-?"

Turning his chin over his shoulder, Embry sniggers in humour. "Uh, oh."

"Alpha," Leah announces as she swipes the beer straight from Jake's hand, kisses his cheek and takes a sip.

"Boys," she wiggles her brows suggestively, before sauntering off into the dance floor.

Quil stands ramrod straight, telling himself not to look.

_Don't look. Just don't. You know that you shouldn't._

But nothing his brain says can stop him from turning and leaning back against the table. His head cocks to the side as he watches that body, watches the way the leather material clings to her calves, thighs and ass. The way those fucking heels accentuate everything, the way her skin shimmers in the backless lace top made of less material than a fucking napkin.

Embry opens his mouth to say something but he's just as dumb struck as Jake.

Brady whistles as he appears at the table, laying the tray of shots down.

"Someone better get on that before Mr. Blonde hair, blue eyes, gets there first."

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	9. Chapter 9

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He sips his beer, leaning back into the lawn chair.

It creaks under his weight as he crosses his ankles and gazes at the group of women almost centred in the backyard.

It's Rachel Black's fortieth birthday party and Jacob's backyard is absolutely decked out with chairs, tables, food and people. Kids run around the yard almost manically, chasing each other screaming, while some of the teenage children piss and moan and glue themselves to their phones.

Leah stands in a navy sun-dress, the thin straps pressing over her shoulders and tying behind her neck.

He likes the way she looks in the dress and he smiles to himself.

Her feet are, of course, bare, shoes long forgotten as soon as she'd made her way out the back door with her mother's potato salad recipe, but that doesn't deter him from thinking she's perfect.

He knows he's crazy, because truth be told, she was far from perfect.

She was irrational, challenged all of them at the drop of a hat, ate more with her fingers than a fork, swore, lashed out, exploded and ruined her clothes more than any of them ever had.

But there was another side too. One that intrigued him just as much. She was also a strategist, cunning, smart, gentle, and when she smiled, _man_.

He just about cries manly tears thinking about it.

She laughs when she sees a little person tugging at her dress and swiftly picks the toddler up, kissing his head and placing him on her hip.

Quil feels a swirl in his stomach at the carefree aura she eludes with the tiny human. She's a natural with all the children, mothering them when their mothers were too caught up in the celebrations or just plain busy or tired. _'It takes a village'_ she once told him, a notion which he still doesn't understand.

He quirks a brow as she turns her head, gracing him with a wink.

He gives her a small salute with his beer which earns him an eye roll as well.

She's so full of emotions, wild, alive. So real.

And he wishes there and then -

that he was _more_ than just a friend.

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	10. Chapter 10

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He scratches his messy hair as he walks into the small kitchen, letting out a yawn as well. His sweat pants hang low on his hips and he's sans shirt.

No that it matters.

This was his house, and he could walk around butt naked if he wanted to. It wasn't like he cared, almost half the Rez had seen him in every state of undress.

He opens the fridge searching through old containers, smelling them to attain what is still good to eat. He settles on a box of half eaten noodles. Pulling a fork from the drawer he shoves it closed with his hip.

The sound of the upstairs shower and a long drawn out 'yassss' makes him grin.

She had been more than shit faced when she had turned up on his porch. She was babbling about something, but he could barely understand her through the waft of liquor and the slur in her voice. As soon as he had let her in, she'd all but collapsed on the couch and began to snore.

It would have been cute if her dress hadn't slipped up to her waist as she hugged the pillow. It took him several moments to react, reaching for a corner of the material and covering her. He may have been absolutely enamoured with her, but he wasn't above respecting her. He'd taken her up to the guest bedroom and tucked her in, knowing the last time he'd slept on the old beat up thing he'd woken up with a wicked knot in his back.

Within moments she bounds down the stairs.

Her cheeks are flushed from the hot water and she smells like his soap. She's even wearing his basketball shorts with the string tied tight, and one of his old LaPush Tribal School shirts. She gives him a lazy smirk as she spots the food in his hands.

Without asking or without permission she moves his arm and slides into his lap. She opens her mouth in wait, urging him on with her eyes.

Quil sighs as he twirls the spoon in the box, before raising it to her lips.

She engulfs the fork in one bite, smiling happily.

"You snore, you know." He tells her, spooning another twirl of noodles to the fork.

"Of course I do. Have you met my father?"

They chuckle together, knowing any wolf within ten miles of her parent's property could hear Harry Clearwater snore at night.

"I think it's cute." He shrugs holding up another mouthful.

She gladly accepts before hopping off his lap and heading to the fridge herself. "I was thinking we could do something today? Beach, cliffs, coffee. Anything really." She bends in search of the juice he hides at the back of the fridge, her wet hair leaving droplets on the dark wood floors.

"Rachel busy?" he asks around his own mouthful of noodles.

"Rachel's got a million children. She's always fucking busy." Leah laughs as she finds the carton, flipping the edges open.

"Don't you dare drink from the carton, Clearwater," Quil tells her seriously, pointing his fork in her direction.

She presses the edge to her mouth and takes a huge fucking gulp.

"Oh," she points to the carton with a smirk, "You meant this? _Sorry_."

She likes pushing his buttons, and...

He kind of likes it too.

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	11. Chapter 11

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She rides his back to the beach.

Her excuse is that she's tired, and she doesn't want to get thistles in her feet because she's forgotten her shoes, and the towel is too heavy and its too hot and if he had picked up his phone last night she wouldn't have had to go to Rachel Black's and get drunk because the woman didn't believe in just having _one_ bottle, and then if she hadn't...

"Jesus, just get on." He huffs and turns so she can climb on.

She launches at him with a giggle, clinging tightly to his neck, her long legs wrapping around his waist. He knows he should have thought about this first. Her body clings to his, and he needs to hold her so she doesn't fall. His arms wrap around her knees, his hands circling her ankles so he can hold her. Her breasts are mashed against his back, thankfully separating them with her bikini top.

She sighs in his ear as he walks them, her head resting near his.

"You're always so warm. You always have been." She tells him lightly. "Ever since I was a kid."

He watches where he's going, stepping over fallen logs and branches.

"Quil?"

"Hmm."

"I want to apologise."

He almost trips.

"The night of Emily's wedding, I said I hated you. I didn't. _Don't_. I was just a silly kid. You were a cute, older guy, who would never give me the time of day. Who would do anything to avoid me. I mean, _I get it_, the braces must have been a total selling point, I know." She jokes, tightening her hold around him.

"I know you didn't hate me, Leah." He sighs as he stops, setting her feet down in the dark sand. "And you're right. You were a kid. A pain in the ass as I remember."

"Still am," she grins, her hands pressing up against his hard stomach gently.

He frowns as he looks down.

"We should eat later. Just us. Maybe go over to Forks? Drive up to Port A?"

He inhales sharply at her words, his gut squeezing impossibly tight. "We - we shouldn't, Leah."

She stills, before removing her hands, her brown eyes gazing at him filled with disappointment.

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	12. Chapter 12

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Quil runs as fast as he can, the forest around him becoming nothing but a blur.

He can feel his heart slamming, his head swimming and mimicking the main organ which pushes hot blood around his wolf. His paws pound against the forest floor, two hundred and thirty pounds of muscle bounding with speeds he's never been able to reach causing his chocolate brown fur to look midnight black.

He's so focused he almost forgets to phase back and pull on his cargo shorts before pushing his way through the emergency doors.

He uses his nose to find them, ignoring the eyes and shouts of 'hey, what are you doing?' as he springs towards the scent.

Thighs burning from exertion, lungs on the verge of collapse, he palms the walls, searching rooms before he reaches another corridor.

Jake, Embry and Seth stand talking to the doctors, serious expressions on their faces. Seth's partner and young son sit on the uncomfortable plastic chairs that line the hall, a lithe body collapsed beside them. Jenny strokes the dark hair that rests against her thigh softly, whispering words of comfort as tears drip down the woman's ruddy cheeks.

She sniffles several times before stiffening, her head moving to see him standing there.

Looking wild, dirty and out of his mind.

Her breath stutters as she swiftly gets to her feet and runs towards him.

He meets her half way, catching her in his arms.

He holds the back of her head, a long arm thrown over the middle of her, as he soothes her. She cries louder now, wetness pooling in the crook of his neck. She claws his back, fighting her way to be closer. She's wrapping herself around him like a vine, as if he is water and the one thing she needs to survive.

"Sweetheart," he mumbles, holding her for all he's worth.

Her cries just about break him. He's whispering against her temple, telling her he's here, he's not leaving, he's so fucking sorry, and he'll kill anyone he has to, for her.

It feels like a losing battle, her tears streaming harder, so hard he wants to phase and tear the whole hospital apart.

_The whole fucking world._

The problem is - he can't fix _this_.

He can't stop her hurt, because like much of his life, _**this** _was out of his hands.

He juggles her so he can sit against a plastic chair away from the group, arranging her legs around him. He rubs her back up and down, soothing her.

_'Let it out sweetheart, that's it, I've got you, I'm here. I won't leave you. Not ever.'_

.


	13. Chapter 13

.

When he places her down in his bed that night, it takes hours for her to stop shaking. Her cheeks are stained wearily with wetness, her lashes clumped together. The tip of her nose is red, tiny sniffles drowning out the silence of the bedroom.

He strokes her hair, his fingers brushing against her ear and through the dark softness. Her hands are folded under her head, but she remains against him, his arm snaked under her, holding her to him. The ruffle of her breath against his chest sends goose-bumps all over his body.

When she's asleep he slips out of the room, but not before kissing her forehead and tucking the sheet around her.

He makes his way down the stairs to the small kitchen for the wolf who waits for him.

Embry gives him a small nod, picking up the bottle. He pours two quick glasses and slides one across the wooden table.

"Doctors said it would have been quick," Embry tells him, taking a sip of the bourbon. "Paramedics were on the scene but it was too late."

Quil punches the door frame in agitation, muttering a 'fuck' before reaching for the glass and welcoming the burn it creates as it slides down his throat.

"Just so you know, Seth wasn't happy about **this**," Embry mumbles, jerking his head towards the stairs and ultimately his room. "He wanted her to be with him and Jenny."

Quil feels a blinding heat. "Does he really think I'm going to move in on her while she's like that?" He hisses, arm flying to point to the stairs. "Fucking Seth Clearwater can kiss my ass."

"Whoa man, just letting you know. You know I've always got your back," Embry tells him, pouring them both another drink.

He finally sits, resting his head in his hands. He scrubs his face, his mind reeling.

He finds out Harry and Sue were driving up to Port A to finalise their Christmas shopping. The driver of another car falling asleep at the wheel. The car had veered and they all died on impact. Leah had wanted to identify the bodies, but Jacob wouldn't allow it. It was too graphic, too heartbreaking, so he had done it instead her or Seth.

She hadn't even said goodbye.

By the end of the story, the edge of the dining table is spilt in the sections he had been gripping.

.


	14. Chapter 14

.

Christmas comes and goes but he notices the dark cloud around the girl who has taken refuge in his bedroom. His house.

She talks and she smiles but something is askew in her eyes. He wants to fall to his knees and ask her what he can do, help her somehow, be useful, but she doesn't ask anything of him. She visits her brother and Jenny, sometimes will sit her nephew, but she mainly just waits, for what, he doesn't know.

And sometimes, sometimes it's like her pain's gone.

That her parents didn't die.

That she didn't just bury them side by side in the Tribal plot, where all their ancestors rested.

He's sitting in the living room, enjoying a beer. Her side is pushed up against his, her head resting on his shoulder. She raises her own bottle and they clink them together.

"Cheers," he whispers, tilting his chin to press his lips to her hair.

He can feel her sigh heavily as she moves to sip her beverage.

"How was your day?" he asks softly.

"Boring. Are you sure you have to work tomorrow?" she mumbles. "We could-"

"I have to work. You know if I didn't have to, I would stay." He breathes, blinking slowly.

She grumbles. "I know."

Her fingers brush against his, moving from his palm to the top of each finger and back again.

It's almost mesmerising watching the act. Her hands are much smaller, so much softer than his own.

She giggles when he quickly closes his hand to catch her wandering fingers.

He smiles at the sound, allowing the game to begin again.

.


	15. Chapter 15

.

It's the morning of his thirty fifth birthday.

He wipes a hand over his face, staring at the ceiling. He counts the bits of curling paint and promises himself he'll deal with it soon. Strip it down, sand it, and give it a fresh lick of paint, that's all it needs. He sighs wondering how long it's been since he's fixed anything in his life.

As of late, he's only made it worse.

The body beside him shifts, a tiny hand resting on his chest. He looks down at her, long cherry auburn locks contrasting against the white sheets, the whole room smelling of sweat, alcohol and sex.

"Morning," Hanna whispers, the tips of her fingers running in circles.

He gives her a tight smile, glancing down at her, before he goes back to counting.

The woman who had shared his bed the night before sits up, brushing her hair into a bun with her fingers. The sheet falls away as she reaches for her underwear and summer dress. She pulls on the items quickly, stopping to sigh and grumble softly to herself. She finishes before turning to him. She looks nervous and he wonders what she's doing.

"This is the last time, Quil." Her voice is firm, even through the torrent of emotion in her eyes.

"I thought you enjoyed last night?"

"Trust me, I did. But it's not enough any more. I _need_ more."

"Jesus, Hanna. What do you want from me?" He grumbles, sitting to grab his jeans to pull them on.

"You know what I want!" she almost shouts.

He rakes a hand through his hair roughly. "I can't give you **that**."

"Why not!" she pleads, coming around to grasp his hands in hers. "We're good together Quil. We should be together. I love you, or at least I would, if you let me. I don't want to be a meaningless fuck. I want us to make plans, move in together. Maybe have children one day."

"Please don't do this again," he says evenly, rubbing his thumb over her fingers in his hand. "I can't commit. You need to understand that."

"Why! _Why_, Quil?"

He rolls his lip between his teeth wanting to explain. "Leah-"

She rears back, slapping him across the face. "Don't you ever talk about to me about _her!_"

Her cheeks are flushed, coming out in pants. He's never wanted to hurt her, but inadvertently, he had done just that. But he couldn't commit. It wouldn't have been fair to Hanna. She would end up being second best, always, to another. And even though Leah and he weren't in a relationship, he wouldn't be able to explain their closeness. He wouldn't be able to explain why Leah stayed over sometimes, mostly in the spare room but sometimes in his bed. He couldn't explain why his heart would speed up hearing her voice or seeing her smile. He wouldn't be able to explain why he would always need her around.

Hanna steps away from him, disappointment flush in her eyes.

Without another word she grabs her purse, throws open the bedroom door and walks out.

.


	16. Chapter 16

.

The age gap between them will always hang in the air. He knows that.

The reason he knows this is that the people on the Reservation didn't - _don't_ \- move on.

They stay, have families of their own, and they don't leave.

He can feel the burning stares of men he went to school with as they pass him in the store or at Jake's garage, their curious eyes wandering over him with jealous and unbelieving stares.

They are almost forty, salt and pepper streaks through their hair, softening bodies, lines in their faces, suffering from morning aches and pains.

But Quil doesn't look anything like them.

The natural curls are still in his short raven hair, untouched by time in both style and colour. His skin is smooth, unblemished. Stature straight, regal almost, even if he'd been accustomed to brooding most times. His eyes are bright, the lightest of browns, and he doesn't look as if he's aged a day in two decades.

The truth is, he hasn't.

He's tried though, tried to let the wolf sleep, tried to bind the wolf inside him. But it was a fruitless task.

They _know_ how old he is.

And they definitely know how old _she_ is.

But in Forks, and in Port Angeles; they don't know. Because they're strangers to all of the people around them. They're just another young couple, or friends, or colleagues, just sitting in a coffee shop, having lunch, a meeting, sharing a secret. It doesn't really matter because they didn't matter. Not to these people. Not at all.

There's only one thing he knows for certain.

If she keeps rolling her eyes like that, they're going to get stuck like that.

So he tells her.

She snorts in reply, bumping his shoulder as they walk from the coffee shop and back towards the hotel. There's a tiny smile playing on her mouth, and he chews his lip in his mouth, stopping his own smile. Her fingers graze his palm softly, dancing lightly within the embrace. The coffee is hot as he sips it, but not as hot as the feeling blooming between them.

"Chocolate chip, Chocolate, Coconut?" She asks lazily, lacing their fingers together.

It's an action he's gotten used to but it's still so strange. He doesn't know where their boundaries sit. How far this will go, what it actually meant. Maybe she just needed to touch him. Wolves were affectionate by design, they needed touch, just as much as they needed a pack. Maybe that's what this was. A friendship.

"Nope."

"Really?" she raises a brow suspiciously, bumping her chin into his shoulder.

He nods. "Macadamia and white chocolate."

She laughs this time, shoving him a little but still keeping their hands connected.

"I always took you for a _simple_ cookie lover, Quil Ateara. But simple, you are _not_."

.


	17. Chapter 17

.

He's sitting on the couch, watching as she paces the room. Her posture is stiff, her muscles tensed. She is clearly agitated and he gives her a wide birth.

"I don't understand," she tells her brother on the phone. "_Why_ does it fucking _matter_?"

She huffs and spins on the carpet, pacing back again. "What does this have to do with anything? No, NO SETH! I don't give a flying fuck if Jake is the Sultan of Brunei. That's not fair. Don't you _dare_ bring daddy into this-" She hisses the latter.

Quil watches as she marches into the bathroom and slams the door behind her.

Although he doesn't hear the whole conversation, he knows the gist of it.

He's heard it before as well.

_Many times_.

From _many_ different people.

All in attempts to placate what he felt.

What his purpose was.

Jacob Black, his cousin, is the Alpha and Chief. Leah Clearwater, _his_ imprint, sometimes house mate, kind of friend, is the Alpha Female, from a distinguished family.

There were certain... aspects that came along with such titles.

Certain _expectations_.

Jake, being unimprinted and single, Leah being of age, in her prime; there were expectations he can barely contemplate without wanting to punch a hole through the nearest wall or tearing the forest apart.

_'A sign,_' they'd say.

_'Destiny'_ they'd mutter when they didn't think he could hear.

_'Makes complete sense.'_

_'A perfect union.'_

He lays his head back on the couch and closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, then two.

She storms back into the room, throwing her phone somewhere in the room by the sounds of it. He lifts his head and opens his eyes slowly.

_There_ she is.

Standing there.

Her arms are crossed against her chest, dark hair swaying softly as she bites her lip.

He doesn't say anything, just waits.

She's looking at the deep burgundy bride's maid dress that hangs on the back of the room door, her eyes glistening with frustration. He knows how much she loves her brother, her nephew, even Jenny. But Seth was pushing her further and further.

He stands and holds his palms up, the motion catching her eye.

"Come here."

She hesitates before moving to fall into his arms. The sigh that escapes her lips is not lost on him.

"Tell me, Leah."

Her fingers dance on the belt loops of his jeans, nervously playing them.

"Why are people such assholes?" she questions, her hot breath skimming his neck. "Why can't they just leave me be?"

He sighs as well, resting his chin on her crown. "Seth cares about you, kid. He just has a shit way of showing it sometimes."

.


	18. Chapter 18

.

It's a Thursday night when he comes home to the succulent smell of food.

Throwing his keys into the bowl near the door, and toeing his shoes off in the entry, he saunters through the house towards the kitchen. He can admit that his diet consisting of mostly fast food is not the best, and while he may look like a twenty-five year old, healthy man, his insides probably resemble an old man who had abused his body during his life.

He stills in the doorway as he watches her busily fluff around the kitchen. She wearing one of her mothers aprons, hair swinging back and forth. From this angle he can see the flour puff on her cheek, and the smear of butter near her chin. He's not even sure how she was able to get butter on her chin.

She purses her lips, tilting to the side to look at him. She smiles softly as her eyes begin at his and end at his feet. Scratching his head he drops his own chin in an attempt to hide the burn in his neck. It had been a hot day, but now, with the rains, it had cooled considerably. His tee is still soaked through with sweat, the hi-vis vest half tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

Sam had recently taken on foreman duties for a multi-level hotel being built in Forks and had won the contract to be a supplier. Quil didn't want to leave Jake's garage but he felt it was for the best. He and his cousin weren't exactly... on speaking terms at the moment. So, he'd taken up Sam's offer and started with a supply crew who were moving wood and steel from the mill to the Forks site.

"Need any help?" he murmurs, clearing his throat. He allows his gaze to work backwards, from her bare feet to her hips, her bust to her eyes.

She shakes her head with a chuckle as she kneads the dough on the bench, adding more flour sparingly as she goes. "I'm good."

"What cha' cooking?"

Moving to the fridge he grasps out the water jug and pours himself a glass. He has an idea of what she's cooking, but she looks happy and he wants to hear her voice again.

She snorts, "As if you don't know. I bet you could smell it from Sam's place."

"Well, kinda." He grins, his eyes now surveying the fluffy golden brown fry bread and pot of stew. "I can't remember the last time I had fry bread."

"Well then it's your lucky day," she laughs, hip checking him to move away.

He steps back to allow her to drop another piece of cut dough into the hot oil.

She backs into him enough that his instinct tells him to hold his breath. But for some reason, he doesn't this time. His nostrils flare, her scent and the column of her neck so close to him now. His eyes almost roll back and he has to grab the counter as his skin starts to tremble. She smells ripe, which is a fucking strange concept, considering she's a woman and not a piece of fruit.

Quil chokes a little, gaining her attention.

"You look pale. You okay?" she asks him, stepping to lay her hand on his forehead.

"Don't touch me," he growls out as he backs away, hands blindly leading his path. "I - I'm sorry. I need to-"

He doesn't finish. He can't.

As soon as he flies off the back porch his wolf rips from it's human confines and bolts straight to the tree line.

.


	19. Chapter 19

.

Quil finds his cousin in the driveway, patiently tapping the keys to his truck in his palm.

Jake's dressed in his usual cargo shorts, boots and a tee. His hair is freshly cut, his jaw free of any shadows.

Considering he doesn't work for his cousin any more, it's a surprise to find him here on a Tuesday. Normally Jake went to Forks on a Tuesday, to do whatever he did there. Quil never asked and really didn't care what his Alpha did when he wasn't with the pack. Jacob was a great guy; and a good Alpha. Patient, understanding, firm when he needed to be, lax when the situation called for it. Quil really had no problem with his cousin.

All except for _one_.

As he hops out of the truck, he can feel the Alpha's eyes on him. It makes him bristle slightly but he takes a few deep breaths to pull himself up.

He turns and nods at Jake.

"Quil," Jake nods back.

"Need something?" Quil asks flippantly as he leans back against his truck. His own undershirt is soaked through to the bone with sweat, but the over-shirt he wears is unbuttoned and allowing his naturally hot skin to cool somewhat. His boots are covered in saw dust, back pocket filled with his work gloves.

"Just waiting for Leah."

Now _that_ gains his attention.

"_Why_?"

Jacob raises his brow in question.

God, Quil hated when his cousin did that. His uncle Billy used to do the same shit.

"I'm heading to Forks. She called me, asked if she could ride along," the Alpha shrugs, his glance moving back between Quil and the house in front of them.

"What is she doing in Forks?"

Jacob's eyes narrow as they land back on him. "You want to know - _ask her_. I'm not playing this game with you, Quil. Not any more."

Quil growls, his fists tightening as he crosses his arms on his chest. He opens his mouth to retort but closes it as soon as he hears the front door open and close.

Leah hops down the porch stairs and bounds over to them. Quil swallows as he watches her movements. She looks nice. Not outlandish or underdone, just nice. Her high-waisted jeans, the long sleeved striped shirt, her shoulder length hair arranged delicately into a semi-messy style.

"Hey," she nods to Quil before turning to Jake. "You ready Almighty Alpha?"

Quil tenses as he catches the brush of her fingers on his cousins forearm and the grin on the other man's face.

"I'm always ready. Your chariot awaits."

Leah snorts as she hops into the cabin. "You're so lame."

Quil fights the urge to snatch her from the other wolfs truck, to demand where the hell it is she thinks she's going.

But he doesn't.

The last few weeks had been strained. Leah had basically moved in months ago, but the incident a few weeks back, seemed to drive a wedge through whatever it is they had. She had been standoffish when he'd arrived back, an apology sitting on the tip of his tongue. But she'd ignored him, and seemed to gravitate to wherever he _wasn't_. She'd done everything in her power to avoid any contact with him unless they were in public, or with the pack.

"Later, cuz," Jacob calls from the truck as it reverses out the drive.

Leah's eyes drift up and meet his own.

He stands, arms still crossed, and challenges her gaze. It isn't filled with dominance, but something else. She's looking at him as if she sees right through the hard-ass façade, through the stoic silence he often eludes.

Maybe there's disappointment in her eyes, maybe its indifference.

He doesn't know.

Maybe he never will.

He stands in the same spot until the truck is out of sight, and still, long after.

.


	20. Chapter 20

.

Leah's Interlude

Part one

.

Another bonfire, another birthday.

Jonah and Harris Lahote are officially eighteen and in true pack fashion, the event calls for a celebration.

She has her own birthday coming up in August, which given the last twelve months she's been through, she isn't looking forward to it one bit.

With both her parents gone, and with Seth and Jenny now married and living in Forks with her beautiful nephew Nathan, it was safe to say that the occasion would be small. Maybe she'll drive or run over to Forks and stay with them the weekend, maybe hit the clubs in Port A, do what normal people her age did. Maybe she could convince Jenny to tag along, ditch the boys for a few hours and let loose.

She was at a strange age. Years younger than the original pack and almost four years older than the oldest boy of the younger phased pack.

"Aunt Ne-ah?" The boy in her arms whispers, his face tilting up.

She smiles down at the little boy, moving her ear closer so she can hear him when he speaks. "Hmm?"

"W-ere is Uncle Kwil?" He asks, his brown eyes sparkling.

Leah surveys the area in search.

Quil had arrived along side them, but soon wandered off to do his own thing as soon as she settled in with the only immediate family she had left.

_Damn it, Ateara._

It was getting harder spending time with him, wanting something with him that he didn't want for himself. She'd known about the imprint, known for a while. She always thought she'd been fair to him. She didn't want to be his universe. She wanted him to decide what he wanted. She wasn't about to tie a leash to the one person that had somehow been there, whether in person or spirit, to offer his shoulder in comfort or support.

"I don't know, sweetie." She tells Nathan, tickling his sides before palming him back to his mother.

"You okay, Leah?" Jenny asks, taking her son into her arms.

She frowns as her eyes dart over the guests. "Yeah. You haven't seen Quil have you?"

"Uh, the last time I saw him he was heading back to the car. Bout ten minutes ago."

She stands up, dusting the sand from her jeans. "Thanks, Jen. I'll be back, yeah."

"Sure."

Nathan protests, but is soon distracted with a few pieces of food and a plastic model plane.

Leah buries her hands in her hoodie as she treks back towards the car park across the sand.

She breaths in the slight salt in the air, relishing the clear crisp scent.

"Hey, Clearwater!" A voice calls out from behind her. She stops and turns on her heel, ready to bite off someone's head. "You owe me a dance!"

Harris Lahote is officially lit. He's not as bad as she's seen some of the other boys, but the way he almost staggers makes her want to laugh.

"Oh really?" She eyes him suspiciously, a tiny smirk playing on her mouth.

"Hell yes!" He grins, throwing his beer bottle to the ground as he snatches up her waist and pulls her towards him.

He smells of liquor and sweat and she leans slightly back to increase the space between them. She can hear the whistles from the young crowd by the fire as Jamie Uley continues playing the guitar. She glances at Jenny who blushes and covers Nathan's eyes. It doesn't take long for Harris' hands to drift a little too low.

"Hey, come on. Hands up, kid" Leah urges, pulling his hands upwards on her back.

"You're super hot, Clearwater. Why haven't we hooked up yet?" He grunts, jamming one hand into her back pocket and squeezing hard.

Leah pushes against his chest. She's been gracious but this is too far. The younger boys in the pack have always felt like the little brothers she never had.

And this was just fucked up.

"Harris... seriously, stop. _Hey_. Come on. Stop."

Harris is so drunk he can barely pull his gaze from her breasts. She can see Paul's concerned stare as he places down his plate of food to watch. Leah shakes her head at Paul as he moves to gain grounds on them. But she wants to handle it.

Paul nods at Leah, grasping his plate again and slowly raising it.

"Come on, babe." He whines, his hand once again snaking downwards. He grasps just under her ass, squeezing the back of her thigh.

Before she can protest and smack Harris or Alpha order him to his knees, she's pulled back so hard their bodies separate immediately.

She hits the sand on her ass, just as the first swing is thrown.

Everything blurs a little until she can shake the hair from her face.

The sickening smacking sound that Quil's fist makes against Harris' face makes her want to vomit. Without even thinking she launches at them, trying to pull them apart. She can feel Quil's hesitation, his fist pulled back, ready to go again. He's already gotten in at least three or four good hits and it shows on the younger boys face.

"Please, don't." She pleads with the angry wolf, pressing her palms against his chest slowly, easing herself closer.

His mouth is twisted in a grimace but he drops Harris' collar.

She can hear Harris choking on his own blood, laying somewhere behind them in the sand.

The rush of wolves towards their direction does not go unnoticed.

"What the _FUCK_ Quil!" Paul shouts, kneeling by his son who is groaning and spitting blood. "He's just a kid. You didn't have to hit him THAT hard."

She can feel the shiver against Quil's skin as he replies. "Maybe you should teach _your_ _fucking pup_ some _fucking manners_."

"Oh, blow me asshole," Harris groans, laying back into the sand.

"Stop means _stop_, you little _prick_."

Leah can feel Quil surge forward but stands her ground. His whole body is pressing up against her, making her mind reel. Every part of him is tense and solid.

It feels so good, so nice to feel him like this.

Reaching up she grasps his face in her hands, forcing his gaze to her own. "_Hey_."

Quil struggles a little but gives in all too soon.

"Let's just get out of here."

He growls at the commotion behind her but she pays it no mind.

"_Please_?"

His eyes soften as they land back on her face.

He nods slightly, eyes closing when her thumb accidentally brushes his bottom lip.

"Come on."

.


	21. Chapter 21

.

Leah's Interlude

Part two

.

The only thing Leah can hear is the quick, sharp intakes of breath by the man sitting across from her.

The dinning table is the only physical thing that separates them, but she can feel the emotional mountain that has sat between them for so long; jagged and twisted, grown larger with time, grown from denial, from rejection.

Grabbing a bag of vegetables from the freezer, she motions for his hand.

Even though he is a wolf and has advanced healing, the state of his knuckles are a mess. Torn flesh, ripped horizontally, greets her, and she sighs as she lays the bag over the cuts. She looks to him noticing the way he doesn't flinch, noticing the way he refuses to look at her. She doesn't know if it's his pride that's broken, or his sanity. Years and years of holding everything inside has changed the man in front of her. She hates the fact that she's to blame for most of it, that because of her very existence, Quil had missed out on life, suspended in time, waiting.

She loves him, more than anything. She loves the stupid things he does, loves the way he smiles, when he laughs, we he rubs his hand over his messy hair. She loves him because she knows him, knows his heart, knows all his flaws, and still wants to be in his life.

"That was a stupid thing to do. I'm surprised Paul isn't here beating down the door."

He grunts in response, flexing his hand.

"Or Jake."

_That_ name gets a rise.

Of course it does.

Jacob Black has unconsciously become his greatest foe. For the most ridiculous of reasons. Jacob was their Alpha, was a kind man, was a good person, and even he didn't deserve the types of pressures that equally rested on his shoulders, along with hers. She saw Jacob as a friend, and a confidant.

Quil looks up at her in question, fire blazing in his eyes.

"Go on. Ask me." She goads absently, her eyebrow cocking in the slightest.

In challenge.

"Ask you what?" He grumbles, his eyes flicking down to her mouth.

Leah rolls her eyes, edging towards the lip of the chair. Her legs are crossed over each other, her hands still firmly planted around his damaged fingers, as she leans forward. She knows she's getting all up in his space, but that's her intention. He had run the last time they had been this close. She wasn't about to let it happen again.

"Don't be a passive moron, Quil. I can see it burning in your eyes. Ask me... what Jacob _is_... _to me_."

His shoulders tense as he tries to snatch his hand away, but she's resilient, and manages to keep him within her grasp.

"Let me go." He growls softly, agitation biting all throughout his body.

"If you want me to let go, _ask me_. Four little words, Ateara. _Ask them_."

He rolls his lips over his teeth as he glares.

She eggs him on. "I'll help you out. Follow me. _Are. you_..."

Quil grits his teeth, his jaw flexing with the motion. "... **_fucking_**. _Jacob_."

Cocking her head to the side at his choice of words, she lets go of his hand, freeing him. "_Dating_ \- would have sufficed."

Leah expects a verbal outburst but what she doesn't expect is for Quil to stand suddenly and kick his chair. It flies backwards and slams against the wall, reducing it to a little more than rubble. She doesn't flinch though, not in front of a wolf and not in front of _this_ wolf.

"So it's true?" He roars, his newly healed knuckles splitting open as he punches the white enamel of the refrigerator.

"And they say _I_ have a temper."

"_Leah_ \- don't play games with me. _Just_ \- _tell me_." Quil warns as he pushes back his unruly hair.

With its natural wave, it does nothing but bounce back toward his forehead.

"_Tell_ you? Tell you _what_?"

"_The god-damn truth_. _Please_." The way he begs makes her insides twist like a coiling snake.

Huffing out a breath she paces the small kitchen for a moment, trying to reign in the situation. She had promised to let him be free, but being free seemed to be hurting him even more.

"The truth is... I... _Quil_," she stutters, suddenly unsure of herself.

"I've lost you, haven't I?" He whispers to himself, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm too late."

Leah takes a breath and centre's herself.

Before he can react, she's in front of him, pushing up on her toes as she pulls his collar down.

His full mouth is motionless above hers, even as she nudges closer.

An empty feeling wells inside he chest as he does nothing but remain still.

Pulling away her breaths are sharp and short, her eyes flicking back and forth over his face for some kind of sign.

Maybe he didn't want her.

Maybe she had been wrong.

.


End file.
